Times Like These
by HeartandImagination
Summary: Astrid has lost a lot, and Olivia is concerned about her loneliness. She offers her a night with Peter if both mutually agree. They do. Olivia becomes involved as well. / Time is reset, but memories from the future-that-never-was bleed into the new past. / Walter learns how his "sacrifice" really wasn't. Rated M for "scandalous" content. Peter/Olivia/Astrid pairing.
1. Loneliness is Killing Me

Olivia lounged back on the old scavenged couch as Astrid handed her the latest ration of reconstituted beef textured soy protein.

Wrinkling her nose, Olivia took a bite and closed her eyes as she slowly swallowed.

_One of the thousands of ways that this future sucks._

"It's sad, but I miss the MRE's we used to get in the Marines for training in the field. At least those often came with M&Ms, and sometimes a cappuccino. Though I'm pretty sure Walter would proclaim their strawberry dairy shakes an abomination. Though maybe in the time we're living in, he may consider it a delicacy…"

She smiled after she had taken a long draw of water to wash down the unappetizing "food."

"Michael has no problem with this TVP substance, though."

Astrid grinned and made a reference to an old 80's commercial, "Mikey will eat anything."

Olivia paused before taking another bite.

"There is so much that we took for granted; such simple things…"

Astrid nodded, "I'd give just about anything in order to be able to bake a proper pie again. I think if I made a real apple pie, then I could command Walter and Peter to do just about anything with just a waft of it to their nostrils" A tiny laugh from her broke a streak of a weeks-long laughter-hiatus.

The blonde woman laughed along with her friend. Both of them needed this. This sense of normalcy and dealing with all of the changes they've had to endure. In the quest to complete Walter's plan—and in the wake of Etta's death and Peter's delving into Observer-territory—life had been one relentless, unyielding drive. They were forgetting how to be human—the little things that made a life.

"To Hell with the boys, Olivia chuckled. "You'd have me eating out of your palm, too."

"My father loved my pies. In fact, he was the one who taught me how to bake… God, I miss him Olivia…"

"The world is a lonely place, for all of us. But we have each other."

"Oh, I know, Olivia. You, Peter and Walter are my home and family now. But… well… this is not the life I had envisioned, ya know? Sure, we did some crazy things and I signed up for all of it. But I had my dad. I could date. Here… there's no way. And I am a woman with needs… It's hard being like a nun…"

Astrid closed her eyes and slightly trembled. It was true. She rarely talked about her situation. They were in a fight for survival. She had seen one of the most enduring relationships crumble away; that same family reunited, only to be ripped into shreds. The little girl—who knew her as an aunt—who she loved to accompany to amusement parks –who compared fluffy cotton candy to "Ant strid's" hair—was taken. But she grew up to rescue them all, only to be murdered in cold blood.

I_t was Hell._

_What was her loss and loneliness compared to the grand scheme of things?_

Olivia set her plate down on the beat-up makeshift table in front of them. "Do you…" She blushed a little and her eyes fell to the floor for a moment, before looking back at the young woman beside her. "I want you to really consider what I am about to suggest. I mean it with no reservations."

Astrid smiled softly at Olivia and wondered what could so obviously embarrass her.

Olivia took Astrid's hand softly in hers and looked her straight in the eyes, a soft crooked smile setting Astrid at ease.

"Peter and I have been doing very well lately, given the circumstances. I truly have my husband back… We had discussed what has happened to you from all of this. I mean… we know your father is gone, and being a fugitive means that unless we are able to defeat the Observers, you may end up living a lonely life…"

"What I'm trying to say…and please don't be weirded out by what I am about to suggest… But… Would you, if given the opportunity, and if he agrees, want to sleep with Peter? No strings attached?"

Astrid's eyebrows raised and a slight, breathy gasp escaped from her mouth.

_Am I hearing this right?_

"Have you asked Peter?"

"Not directly. I have been feeling him out though when talking with him. He agrees that he hates to see you alone."

"Olivia… I… don't want things to be altered between us. "

"Before all of this happened, there was no way in Hades that I'd ever suggest for my husband to sleep with another woman. But this is different. The world has changed and I feel terrible keeping the one man that is possibly available to you all to myself. And it's not a pity-fuck."


	2. Love is a Temple

In the dim lighting of the lab-office-turned-makeshift-bedroom, Astrid watched Peter as he invited her in. Closing the door, she stood in front of the doorway, not exactly sure what to do next.

_What is the protocol for having sex with your friend's husband with her blessing? _

_Of course, Peter had agreed. At this point, anything Olivia wished was his command. _

Astrid smiled shyly at Peter and lowered her head, thinking of all the memories that had flooded into her head from the other timeline. She had genuine affection for him; he was always so very kind to her and would make her welcome at the Bishop home.

Admittedly, she did have a slight crush on him. How could she not? Peter was intellectual, and although he could be a cocky, pretentious asshole with those he found annoying, he treated Astrid and her thoughts and opinions as respectful equals, all with an equal dose of charm and good humor. Part of her wondered if there was a universe where a version of her ended up with a version of Peter.

And boy, could the man eat. She always wondered how Peter—much like his father where food was concerned—wasn't a hefty 250 pounds instead of a lean, lanky well-toned man. Astrid enjoyed baking, but other than her dad, she really didn't have anyone to share with. But the younger Bishop was more than glad to help polish off her cakes, pies and cookies, and he always made a fine guinea pig for trying out her latest recipes. There wasn't one thing that she produced that didn't put a smile on his face. When it came to sweets, he was much like a little boy, and definitely his father's son.

"Peter, you are fine with this?" Astrid asked with a little hesitancy.

God she was nervous.

She had a few lustful fantasies in the previous timeline – maybe even got herself off on them –but she knew that Peter and Olivia were meant for each other for certain when she had observed Olivia fretting over him after he had been infected with a deadly virus, and they came close to losing him to a military-executed eradication. Peter had long been obviously head-over-heals for Olivia, but wisely kept his distance from her due to all the pain and betrayal she had experienced due to John Scott. Astrid saw it before they did, or at least would admit it.

"Astrid, sweetheart… He smiled so big, that small crinkles formed along his piercing turquoise eyes.

Her friend became as close as he had ever been to her in this timeline. So… Damn… Close… Then he reached his arms up and gently caressed her shoulders. With her eyes closed, the long worn woman enjoyed the feel of her body being touched by another after having been neglected for what had seemed like an eternity. His touch was blissfully calming.

A sudden gasp escaped from her throat, due to the tickling hot air of his breathe as he whispered in her ear, "Do we want this to be awkward, or do we prefer sweet and hot?" A pleasantly rough tongue traced along the edge of her ears making her shudder, and long for such strong, wet strokes to be put to other uses, on more sensitive parts of her anatomy. She wondered if Peter would go there, because it had been ages since that part had been the lucky recipient of such an exquisite pleasure; college maybe?

It was on. No reservations.

Placing her hand on the shoulder blades of his back, the former junior agent pulled the husband of her former work colleague to her lips, which were eager to make contact with his. Surprised with the exhibited boldness, he acted in kind, tasting her full mouth then meeting her tongue with firm strokes. Both moaned as they slowly made their way up against a wall. The focus of her kisses had a coating of soft, tickling hair along his face, which was more in beard territory than the scruff he normally sported. Razors were at a premium for all of them.

Peter managed to come up for air and his mischievous smile melted her heart; his eye lids half closed. Astrid was hungrily aware of his throbbing erection, and it made her the most wet she had ever been; her wet heat was a sweltering inferno and the fires were only just beginning.

"OK, so I take it you like it hot, then," the excited man mumbled into her neck as he left a long trail of kisses and his hands went for her round, pert breasts. She ran her fingers through the slight curls of his shaggy hair; her breath came in ever harder puffs.

Astrid responded to her temporary lover's playful and teasing inquiry by going right for the bull's-eye, so to speak; her hand found the prominent tent-pole jutting out his pajama bottoms and gave it a good, perfectly-pressured squeeze, causing his hips to buck into her and a groan to escape… To have this kind of power over Peter was something Astrid had only dreamed of.

"Bet you never thought I'd get hard for you; that you could have this effect on me? Here's a secret… there were a few times where you were the subject of some of my naughty dreams…"

"Naughty boy."

Like women do, but won't admit to, Astrid had wondered before about Peter's size, randomly, as they worked in the lab. He sometimes wore some mighty tight Wrangler jeans and it was difficult not to notice the fullness he exhibited in the zipper area, in addition to his fine, firm, shapely ass. And yes, it was even bigger than she had imagined which was equally exciting and scary. Sensing her concern, he stopped her from going in and below his waistband with one hand while taking the other and cupping her cheek.

"Don't worry about him. He's not going anywhere until you're good and ready."

Peter pulled his shirt over his head and Astrid looked him over with concern, noting the nasty, jagged scar on his shoulder from where he was stabbed by an Observer. As she looked into his eyes, she mouthed a quick, "Oh, Peter, you poor baby." Otherwise his body was appealing; firm, slightly built, with a slight patch of fuzz on his chest leading down to his…

Hands at her shirt were at her buttons, unveiling her soft mocha flesh to him. He gazed at her with the grin of a bad-boy giving a dare as he completed the task, the shirt shipped from her shoulders and body completely. They embraced and he pulled away to kiss down her neck, nipping and lightly applying suction along the way. He went for kill as he cupped his hands around both of her breasts and massaged them, before he bent down to draw her right nipple into his mouth. Astrid about jumped at the sensation, and he continued only to go to full-blown sucking at lapping at her. She was so damned horny, and had little more patience. She made her point known by going straight into his pajama bottoms. His cock was released into the cool air of the lab, as Astrid stroked him to encourage further action. Down his pants went and they were kicked away without a care as to where they'd land. Astrid's received the exact same treatment, as her mind was only focused on one thing.

"You are so beautiful," Peter told her as he gazed at her, completely naked.

"You're not so bad yourself"

"I don't know. I'm starting to feel like a scarecrow without stuffing," Peter remarked with a bit of sadness and defeat in his eyes.

Astrid considered for just a moment that he was smaller. They all were. Constant stress and an inadequate diet had to be taking its toll on a man with such a high metabolism and activity level as Peter. After this night, she was definitely going to do all she could to bake this man a pie.

She gasped as his fingers found her wet, dripping center and he ran his slickened fingers over her wanting sensitive parts, before one finger and then two were inserted into her. Astrid shook as his pumping action increased, and they continued their reckless kissing.

Giving his chest a hard nudge, which encouraged him to lie down, she seductively whispered, "I want to ride you, Peter."

He obliged, and reached into a bag hanging along the bed post, pulling out a small bottle and a foil packet. In this future, condoms were given out like candy and the resistance had plenty.

He continued to speak as he drizzled a light stream of slick fluid from the bottle onto his hard cock and tantalizingly stroked it a few times.

"This isn't sexy, but to be honest, my only real reservation to doing this is any remote possibility of getting you pregnant. It's scary to think of having a baby in this situation."

"It is… Listen, if you want to call this off, we don't have to go all the way. I'm over the moon with this evening as is, Peter"

Without hesitancy a reply: "I don't. I want you." He rolled the condom onto his lube-slickened and burning member.

"Peter, what if… I did become pregnant? I don't think it could happen because my period stars two days from now. But I want to know what that would do to you and Olivia?"

"We'd survive. I asked her that very question. She said she couldn't think of a better father for your child, if it happened."

"That's all I needed to know," Astrid affirmed as she straddled across his hips and sunk down onto his shaft, slowly taking him in. His lust-filled eyes intently watched—tits swinging free and ass coming down—as she slowly took in his cock until completely down to the root of him. In contrast, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, fully enjoying the feeling of being filled by him and his heat. It was pleasure, spiked with pain. He was easily longer and wider than any man she had ever been with.

"You all right?"

The response came in the form of her squeezing her muscles around him making him shudder and moan.

"I take that as yes… holy, mother…you are about to make me lose myself already, woman."

She panted heavily as she rode him, and he enjoyed it all immensely. Peter's eyes showed more than just his own pleasure. He was genuinely happy that Astrid was enjoying this time with him—that he was giving her such pleasure, long overdue. Sex with Olivia was like a sacred spiritual ritual. Sex with Astrid was a spiritual gift. Feeling the swell in his cock and the coil of his balls, Peter placed his hands on Astrid's hips to stop her.

"I don't want this to end yet. Roll over."

Doing as told, Astrid laid on her back on the small bed, and then Peter gently parted her legs and continued where they had left off. Kisses were placed all along the woman's body; he believed in worshiping his lovers before sacrificing himself completely to the drive for climax.

Peter became braver with his exploration and angled her so that he could push into her at an upward curve. Knowing that every woman was different, he experimented in trying to find Astrid's sweet spots. Perspiration made their bodies so slick... sweat poured along his back as she kneaded his ass with her soft hands, urging him harder, deeper.

A loud moan let him know he had struck gold. Increased thrusting made the woman beneath him react in a manner that only excited him more. Her passage quivered so hard, the force was nearly enough to force him out of her. His straining balls were coated and dripping with a stream of fluid, brought forth from her along with some incoherent babbling, with maybe a…

"Fuck yes, Peter!

And…

"This is too much!"

And…

"I don't think I can take much more, it feels so good!"

He was a goner when he realized this, and his thrusts became forceful, staccato slams, things became sloshy sounding in the room, until he reached his blinding apex with his own long groan from the white-blinding ecstasy. He pulled out quickly, and disposed of the barrier that was between them; then slumped down in the bed next to his lover, his breathing still erratic.

Astrid stroked his chest as she recovered from their lovemaking in his arms. The events of the evening seemed so surreal. She breathed in the smell of him mixed with her own, and it was a heady sensation. It was real.

"And to think the closest I had ever been to you before, was a hug before you got into that awful machine the first time… I was so scared, Peter. So sure that you were going to die… and I wasn't ready to lose you."

At first, she thought she was seeing beads of sweat, but then realized what she was actually seeing were small tears falling down Peter's cheeks.

"You remember me? I mean, from before? The other timeline?"

Astrid realized that she had not told him… She kissed his cheek and nodded. "Michael did for me what he did to Walter. I got to see my other life… I got to see how you cared for me. I was able to see how I was practically a part of your family, spending dinners and holidays with you… I clearly remember playing Scrabble and Words with Friends with you because I was one of the few people who could compete with your vocabulary—even beat you, which thrilled you to no end. I remember you affectionately calling me, "The Littlest Bishop."

Peter was overwhelmed. This night already wasn't about lustful animalistic sex, based purely on the pleasure of physical release. It was about being loved—being remembered—taking care of one another. Drawing Astrid close, he was so glad that he chose to remain human with emotions.

In this messed up world, these displaced souls, had each other. Peter loved Olivia as his life partner and soul-mate. He would never willingly betray her trust or the bond they shared, one that overcame different universes and the separation of time. What she had given both him and Astrid was a gift of the heart. A gift to share love and joy and which was also about being secure enough to willingly share someone with another. Instead of being rigidly possessive, harboring paranoia or miring oneself in unfounded jealously, love was shared. This world needed all of the love it could get.

"This doesn't have to be a one-night-deal, Astrid. Maybe I can convince my wife to have us all be together on occasion."

Peter had participated in a few threesomes in his life. Some allowed him to participate with two other women; others involved him with another man and woman. But they were just activities done because he could do them; purely selfish motivations; mindless fucking, basically, for the most part.

Olivia, Astrid and he could be beautiful together.

"But wouldn't Walter feel left out?"

Peter's eyes became wide, as he considered her question. Chuckling, "He doesn't have to know."

"Peter… I didn't want to tell you this, but Walter pretty much rambles and confides everything to me… He's made lots of happy comments about hearing you and Olivia at night—your "nocturnal" and "marital" activities." Even gave me a play-by-play account… Squeaking bed. Moans. Curses. Exclamations to God…"

Peter put up his palm, having heard enough embarrassing details.

"We aren't quiet, are we?"

A giggle...

"Are you kidding?"

"Doh…."

At that point, Olivia opened the door of the office, causing the occupants to stiffen a little. Walter or the Observers were on their minds.

"It's only me," she whispered as she quietly slipped in. "Good thing we gave Walter a little something extra as a night cap. That bed is LOUD."

* * *

Hmm... does anyone want this to continue? ;)


	3. A Little of This, a Little of That

Olivia told them to stay put and pushed her bed up next to one currently occupied.

"Mm… did my man enjoy himself? And how about you, Astrid? Did he satisfy you? Doesn't matter, he's getting punished, either way."

They both still smelled heavily of the exertions with one another, but Olivia could distinctly detect Peter's essence among the feral scents.

Astrid looked at Olivia shyly and did not answer. Peter shifted himself upwards in the small bed, causing it to creak ever so slightly, a barely noticeable sound compared to the cacophony caused by the physical actions inflicted upon it earlier. Peter had been a bit louder than he had intended.

"Don't tell me you had second thoughts about this, Liv?" Peter gave Astrid a concerned look.

Olivia had no reason to ever feel jealousy because Peter gave himself completely to her when they married, so he was genuinely confused by her actions: Especially when he recalled the conversation that had led to all of this.

"_Livia, pinch me. You are really asking me if I'd sleep with Astrid?"_

"_She needs it. It would take her stress away and make her feel more included in this… odd family unit. All I know, Peter, is that as much as I love you, sometimes I just needed you to fuck me senseless, and it made everything better. Did you ever notice that often it was my worst days when I'd jump you, and want it rough and often kinky? The worse I felt, the harder I just wanted you to bang me. It sounds kind of crude coming from me like that… but…"_

"_Stop, right there sweetheart, because hearing you talk like that is making me want YOU right now." His eyes travelled from hers down to the obvious mound in his jeans that had formed' he looked back up to her and flashed a wicked smirk._

"_Oh, no. Don't make me have sex with the sweet, smart, and attractive assistant who I had long desperately tried to think of as merely family as a way to keep from thinking about her in that way – before you drug me back from the other side, of course… Actually, it was when you were thrown from the SUV when William Bell pulled you over to see him. At that point, when I was so afraid that you were gone, I knew I wanted you. Only you. Ugh, but now I'm confused, because I wouldn't mind playing with Astrid for a bit and making her feel good; feel loved."_

* * *

Olivia loved to look at him from this new viewpoint: coming down from the high of a new lover; his hair adorably mussed, skin lightly flushed as a tell-tale sign of prior sexual exertion, and nipples acting as a gauge for the cold of the air in the lab office/makeshift bedroom.

"Jeez, chill you two… I am OK with this. Really, all we have is each other, and the world has changed so much. I prefer to open my mind to the sexual possibilities. I know where Peter's heart rests, and you have to admit; he is amazing in bed. It's not right to not share, because no other opportunities are available for the foreseeable future."

Olivia carefully brushed her husband's cheek with light touches of the back of curled fingers, looking at the small scar. He was aging well, all things considered. In her mind, and physically, he was still 37-years-old. His hair was leaning more towards his natural curly heritage, and was getting quite longish. Being close to him, she had noticed ever so few strands of grey had made their way into the mix, mostly hidden in the forest of brown locks. Fine-etched lines from years of worry were reminders of their struggles, and had their place next to his deep-sea eyes. She loved how they became more pronounced when he smiled lovingly at her, or at their daughter. Sadly, in these times, his smile or laugh was a rare occurrence.

They both had long suffered the weight of the world—of worlds—on their shoulders, and they were ever so close to shrugging. Scratch that—Peter had shrugged, damning the outside world because what he had fought so hard to have was taken from him. Their collective soul had lost its cohesion over the course of the invasion. Losing Etta not once, but in finality, was the force needed to completely tear them apart, to strip them of the essence of all that held them together. But her memory and their love for her healed that rift, and that weld was the strength that would carry them to either victory, or obliteration, together.

Times like these are often a reminder of times past. Years ago, when she first sat on a bench with Peter, drinking coffee and spilling her guts about the file-which-did-not-exist, this was the first time she really taken in by how ruggedly handsome he was – and still is. Peter has always has a rounded face and cheeks, which gave him the allusion of being a bit chunky. But he had the strong frame of swimmer or runner; muscular, but not in a ripped manner.

At one time, Olivia knew the source and story for every scar on Peter's battered body. She considered them just a part of what made him uniquely Peter—some badges of experiences, both good and bad. He never minded her slight stretch marks either – they were a sign that she had given life to their daughter. He had his battle scars, and she had hers. Each life partner kept a well-detailed mental image of the other's bodies. Every mole—every ticklish spot—every secret _OMG, please keep doing that_ place, inside and out. Each detail was different from any other person—in both universes.

She knew the tales; everything from stupid kid stunts to a case of something that should have ended way worse than it did. Peter had once been caught by a mark that wasn't too happy about being played as a fool. Peter described to her through choked-up words, how he had been brutally beaten and raped hard by several men, only to be tossed into a muddy ditch on a rainy, country back road. He later woke up in a hospital and was arrested as soon as he was stable. This, he had never told anyone. Olivia was overcome with sadness for him, as she too had experienced some sexual trauma, due to her stepfather.

But Peter, sweet Peter, a man so sure and cocky with everyone but her, said that he deserved his torment. That SHE was innocent and deserved none of the terrible things that happened to her. She had held him against her breast and stroked the back of his head; her quivering hand ran through the soft, thick near-curls that she adored. Few people had ever seen the unsure, soft, child-like side of Peter Bishop. Olivia softly explained to her beloved that he had been caught up in bad things because of his unstable childhood—but he had received absolution due to his penitence. Peter looked up at her, catching her complete attention, his eyes glistened in the pale moonlight from weeping, and he lovingly whispered, "Only because you are my angel; the light that brought me home. I would have died without you."

Maybe that was true. He fully believed that if he had not left Iraq and gone back to Boston with her those many years ago, it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. He had reiterated her guardian status once again when she stopped him from accepting a full-on Observer conversion. But all she knew that she felt incomplete without him, and he had done his fair share of saving her, but in a different way.

Her heart had hurt for so long, especially when she found out that her alternate had literally taken him. But he DID hold on to her, gave her space to cope with her feelings, and eventually Olivia saw how much he hurt… because he truly loved HER, and wanted nothing more than a beautiful life with HER.

The first time they made love, she was sort of shy at first; for her, Peter was unexplored territory. When he removed his well-worn, soft blue jeans, which freed his constrained bulge—she had caused him to get hard within seconds of seductive kissing and groping him against the door of his bedroom—she smiled, making him grin.

"I take it that you like what you see?"

Her face lit up and she whimsically countered with a wink, "What? I don't _see anything_ but a circus tent. Though that's quite the big-top you have there, Mr. Bishop."

He was amused as evidenced by his cute chuckle, as he lied back against the pillow propped up along the headboard of his bed, with her next to him. He had put her at ease. The soon-to-be-lover took a deep breath and carefully removed his covering boxers, never taking his intense gaze from her eyes, allowing her to see the complete package. Olivia was pleasantly surprised to find that Peter was of good size and girth, with the "tackle" to match. Like Astrid, she, too, had sometimes wondered what exactly he had, early on. Her long-neglected body was pleased to feel his more-than-enough, but not-too-much.

As cliché as it sounded, it was as if he was made for her; the most complex, interlocking two-piece puzzle ever, finally put together; on more than just the physical level. They were perfectly aligned pieces of a mental zipper, which bound their souls together. That night, all of her pain washed away with each of his kisses, each caress, each stroke; the soft, shaking call of her name as he poured into her, and his proclamation of love to her, something he swore he never said to her alternate. They both were raw and vulnerable, but after that night they were made whole again.

The next morning when they had breakfast, they laughed and talked. When he remembered the funny exchange they had before he bared all to her, her now official mate asked, "So now that you've 'seen the elephant,' what do you think?"

Olivia had given him a clearly confused look which led him to explain:

"You joked last night about only seeing the circus tent; well, during the time of the American Civil War, circuses were a big deal. They didn't happen often, and elephants were an exotic attraction that everyone wanted to see. The naïve country boys at the start of the war were anxious to get into their first battle—something they hadn't seen before and were curious about. So, the soldiers called going into battle 'seeing the elephant.' Sadly, those who survived their first battle realized that these bloody events were nothing special, much like poor, big, smelly, caged elephants."

_Leave it to Peter to turn their wonderful first time into a history lesson. _

She loved him even more for it; and assured him that his "circus" was more like a rocket to the moon.

Unlike some guys blessed with abundance, Peter knew exactly what to do with what he had been given – and he gave. Boy did he ever. Olivia was pretty sure that they had conceived Etta the one weekend that they had spent in Vermont, shortly after she had given in to her memories from the overwritten timeline. They acted like teenagers, or long-separated lovers—and really, being separated by non-existence and new timelines is as separated as it gets. Peter had liberally given her an overflow of his seed over the course of their many encounters that weekend. Her birth control was an abysmal failure to the assault her womb had received from his climaxes and from her own body's reactions to the intense, pleasurable euphoria that he gave her over, and over, and over, during that blissful, carefree weekend.

So, Henrietta owed her existence to one weekend of voracious, carefree sex, but when they actually _tried_ to have another baby many months before the Observers invaded – it wouldn't happen. Peter would joke about it, but she knew it bothered him. They had talked about having two, maybe three kids; a little "tribe of Bishops."

That seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, they had lost the only little Bishop they had…

* * *

Luckily, in this time, birth control was made more available than Tic-Tacs. She had a few "morning after" pills, gleaned oddly enough, from Etta's medicines, and she gave one to Astrid. It would be her damned luck that one, or even both of them, would wind up pregnant from one night of indiscretion and carefree indulgence. Olivia was NOT going to let that happen.

In times like these, they all needed to just let go.

Peter had gained confidence when he was sure his wife wanted in on this, too.

"OK, then; whatever you ladies wish, really. I'm game for anything. I'm at your service." He snickered and flashed an offering gesture over his body.

"I don't know… Maybe we should take our time. You are technically in your late fifties. Wouldn't want you to keel over." Astrid rolled her eyes as she joked.

"You were the one who straddled me like I was the prize mount at the Kentucky Derby," Peter smiled. "Not that I mind… Seeing that side of you made my early-day naughty-boy fantasies come to life."

"You fantasized about Astrid, Peter? You didn't tell me this before agreeing."

"You never asked, dear"

"Well, I can be too angry with you because I had those same thoughts, and wondered if I should have projected that willingness more. "

Peter grinned, "I never would have guessed that you're bisexual, Olivia?"

"Well… I have never been with a woman, so no. But I am open to the possibility. And I didn't exactly see you flinch when I once felt that maybe our friend Lincoln was lonely, and he could come join us."

Peter shrugged. "I have my obvious preference, but as the great Tony Curtis said in _Spartacus_, "I'm OK with both snails and oysters. I would have rocked Lincoln's world."

"He was meant more for me, not you," Olivia laughed.

"I want to watch you two. I've never done anything like that before." Olivia lied back on the bed, on her side, propping her head with a pillow, all the while giving Peter a mischievous smile that was always his undoing.

"Astrid, what you want? Don't be shy. Tell him."

Astrid nodded her head at Olivia and grinned, both looking at Peter like hungry wolves.

Peter gulped hard, "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm going to be incredibly tired before this night is through?"

"Go ahead." Olivia breathed heavily as she stripped. "I want you to tell Peter what you want."

"Give me a moment, to think…" Astrid put her thin arm around Peter and pulled him close with the other. Softly, slowly, kisses were up and down Peter's neck and she found one place that made him shiver with sensation, and he chuckled. Astrid's light laps soon become a full out assault of mouth, tongue and suction, Peter reached up his hand, stopping her abruptly, and proceeded to give her all of the tongue he could muster.

She cupped her hand and enjoyed the heavy feel of his balls, as she played ever so slightly with the thin layer of curly hair which covered the spongy flesh beneath, his stone prick exposed from a similarly trimmed patch. She enjoyed the velvety softness of its skin, much in contrast to how hard he was when she gave him a few good, and well-received, strokes.

Astrid caressed the light hair on his body, trailing from his groin, up his taut belly, his chest, and chin, then cupped his face in both of her small hands, and looked into his eyes for understanding. "Go down on me, Peter. I want your tongue in every crevice."

Peter pulled Astrid up by her hips as she squealed in delight, and placed her against the back of the bed. He bent down on both of his knees and held her legs back so he could gain a closer view of the pussy he just plowed shortly before. Astrid had a light coating of hair – it would be ridiculous to maintain the silly completely shaved fetish of the early 21st century. He never liked completely "bald beaver" anyway. "Mm… that's nice…" he muttered. Her pink bud was slightly visible from its surrounding robe of mocha skin, and he decided it was too shy. He delicately took his index finger around her soaked opening, getting it good and coated with her warm honey. He slowly slid it into her, and made note of her hitched breathing. It seemed to him that all women were impatient regarding this act. They loved it, and were very greedy about it. But it took time to build up, and Peter was going to take his.

Languidly, he used his finger to fuck her, and then added small long strokes from his tongue getting Astrid's lips entirely wet, as she writhed. His laps turned into meticulously placed, well-controlled strokes with the tip of his tongue and the force, speed and angle of his finger changed. At this point Astrid was babbling incoherently, and trying to toss around, but he was holding her in place.

"Fuck… Jeezus, Peter."

When he added a second finger and made his final assault, increasing the speed and intensity of his fingers while his tongue worked the center of her sexuality, she about leapt away from him, but he used his arms to hold her still, and before long, she stopped struggling only to let a loud moan escape and she flooded him with a stream of warmth that he greedily lapped up, as he loudly proclaimed how good she tasted.

Olivia felt herself become incredibly wet, and the slow heat that had been pooling in her belly was screaming for a vent. As she watched her mate do this, she played with her own soaked and jealous bud. Never mind that Peter often loved to eat her out, and she had experienced her own wet, hot orgasms as a result, every time.

Peter used his tongue and the back of his hand to wipe away the remainder of his friend's aromatic juices from his face.

"Ok, you got what you wanted; now it's my turn. Get on your hands and knees," he ordered huskily. He laughed, "Trust me. After this, you will really enjoy what's next."

Astrid did what she was told and seductively waved her rear end to Peter. Peter's tool was engorged with the pulsing force of his hot blood, and he wasted no time in giving it all to her. He grabbed her ass and spread her wide, then rubbed his hot head around her lips, entrance and clit, which created a delirious, slick friction to those parts which were already on edge from the assault of his tongue. But then she gasped abruptly as he suddenly pushed all in. He was not easy with her this time around, and gave her no time to adjust to the thick eight-inches he had reintroduced to her quivering, but still-tight body. He grabbed her hips and let loose like a hound set upon rabbits.

"I'm a naughty boy, Liv," he admitted to the air as if it were a confession.

He then bent down and growled low into Astrid's ear, "God, there were many times that I just wanted to bend you over in the lab and do this."

After a minute of hearing him grunt and listening to Astrid pant like a dog in heat, Olivia was no longer happy to just sit back and watch. She moved up behind him as he energetically pumped into the younger woman, and grew hot as she watched the ripples of her husband's back and rear muscles as they worked along his sinewy frame. She ran her hands up and down the expanse of his shoulders and then played with his tight bouncing balls, which made him quiver. He whimpered when she moved her hands to Astrid's clit, but her actions there caused the tunnel that encased him to convulse and grip him tightly. Astrid was moaning to beat all.

In the ultimate act of naughtiness, Olivia coated her fingers in the ample fluid between the two and proceeded to play with Peter's rear. She tickled the outer perimeter of his opening, and started to push a finger into him as he drove into Astrid. This made him tense, and he slowed his strokes; the rutting man growled a firm, "Olivia."

"What?" She asked innocently as if finger-fucking her husband's ass while he was busy screwing another woman was a normal occurrence. She proceeded to slide a couple of her fingers in and out of him, which caressed his prostate with each stroke.

"Fuck, Liv, please stop," Peter begged with ragged breath as he shivered and Astrid bucked hard against him.

"What? You don't like losing control?" his wife teased.

"Not… fair…" he managed to get out. "You know how to derail me, every time."

She did as he asked, but it was already too much for him. After only a couple more hard thrusts, Peter groaned profusely as he pulled out of Astrid and forcefully deposited his burning and voluminous seed onto her lower back; with firm strokes and eyes closed, he gasped for air as he were drowning. Astrid loved feeling the spurts of his thick, fiery fluid on her body, and he just… kept… coming. When he was finally through, Olivia lapped up every sticky particle from Astrid. The head of her husband's cock and its slit glistened from the viscous flow, and she captured the stray drops with her tongue and proceeded to clean him up entirely, as she made note of the mixed tastes from him and Astrid both.

Worn out, and a little shocked at his wife's actions, Peter staggered up to his feet and found that he really needed to pee. He walked out of the room stark naked, not caring as he made his way to the lab's bathroom. When he came back, he found Olivia and Astrid kissing and caressing each other. He plopped himself into an old chair and curiously watched the two women. He'd never thought in a million years he'd be watching Olivia and Astrid go at it.


	4. We Lived, We Loved

… Although Peter's initial excitement at this scene had been muted by the need to get over a surprise in the lab.

After he took care of his pressing bladder, and cleaned himself up a bit, he wandered out to make his way back to the two women, who he _thought_ would be anxiously waiting for his return.

"Hello, Son. I wasn't aware that it is Tuesday," came from a corner and made Peter reflexively jerk. When he realized the source of the voice, he ran back into the bathroom, and then returned to the lab wearing a towel around his waist.

_Walter had woken up feeling unusually groggy, but some acid reflux was bugging him. An egg stick or spaghetti cube had not agreed with him, so he sought some kind of neutralizing agent in the lab._

_That's when he heard the sounds coming from the office/makeshift bedroom. At first, he was happy that Peter and Olivia had taken up their marital activities once again, like rabbits; but after a few minutes of… accidentally listening… he was certain that he wasn't hearing Olivia calling out to God, Jesus, and Peter… Astrid? _

"Psh… like I have never seen your penis before, Peter," Walter stated as if it were a perfectly normal thing.

Peter asked in a sardonic tone, not amused to be caught the one time he braved going out into the lab buck-naked, "Was I an adult at the time?"

"Does it matter? A penis is a penis, except you seem to have been blessed with a large endowment, too. Which shouldn't surprise me; like father, like son. And from the sound of things, you make excellent use of it."

Peter wanted nothing more than to pretend that this was just a dream, because discussing his dick with his father—and especially having it compared to his father's—was definitely nightmare territory.

He rubbed his eyes, and chuckled low, "Dad, no more, please."

"Ok… well, don't let the old man keep you tied up. Go on back, and enjoy yourself." Walter flashed a proud-but-forlorn grin to Peter, and started to shuffle back to his own bed.

Peter was mortified at first.

_You'd think after all this time that I would have seen every crazy, embarrassing thing that Walter has to offer, but no. He continues to be one step ahead of me._

Peter shuddered at the thought that the only thing that could top this was Walter actually watching him in the act of sex. He was pretty sure that would be the end of him. He could see Walter giving him some instructions based on some weird study he had read or performed in the 70's…

Not that Peter wasn't a ready student of _recent _sex research, but still…

The thoroughly disturbed son wasn't sure if he could get it up again tonight after thinking on that scary scenario.

The younger Bishop also had just the slightest moment of guilt at that time. How long had it been since Walter had known the touch and love of a woman? Maybe he could arrange something for him. Later. Tonight was his.

* * *

It didn't take long for him to put the embarrassing encounter out of his mind. No worries about Little Peter refusing to wake up. Oh yes, he was a greedy fucker. _Sorry, Dad_.

What was before him was simply mesmerizing. Peter had faced that fact that he was a pervert early on his life, and out of all the things had seen and done, this simple act between his wife and friend as they loved one another turned him on like nothing else. His pole made this all too apparent as it was so stiff and straining that it arched up, almost painfully straight, and his pre-cum dripped down his shaft, as it made its way down to lightly coat his balls. He simply sat back, his jaw agape, and tried not to blink, as he spat on his hand and worked it up and down his painfully throbbing, envious erection.

The two women switched to a 69 position. Olivia's body quivered with every delicious stroke of Astrid's tongue, and she herself had never known anything like giving such pleasure to another woman, as the woman's delicious offering was right in front of her. Astrid explained that she had been involved with numerous female lovers, and that Peter was actually one of the comparatively few men she had ever had sex with, even though she enjoyed them sometimes, too.

Olivia was perfectly happy to continue their little reciprocal fun for a while. She thought that this must be what Peter feels like on the giving end, when he went to town on her. He—she—was lucky that he enjoyed cunnilingus so much, because he didn't, she would have found a woman a long time ago. Astrid's touch was way different from her husband's. Peter, although an amazing lover, often had the mindset of an engineer; very learned about female anatomy; very methodical; efficient even… He was sometimes hyper-focused on making her cum, like it was some sort of challenge. But he knew exactly what buttons to push, so she could flood him like clockwork. However, he cared for her pleasure, and it's what really got him off the best, so Olivia was grateful for this aspect of him. He usually liked to be in control, and Olivia loved to knock him off course from time-to-time, taking complete lead, which he also enjoyed—a lot. Who was she kidding; Peter enjoyed just about anything intimate involving her.

Astrid, in contrast, just let it flow. There was some awesome joy in new discovery, and Olivia relished it.

Peter could no longer take being left out. His clammy, rough hand just wasn't cutting it when he had his choice of two hot, slick and willing pussies to bury himself in. His naughty, stubborn cock seemed to be aware of that fact. He slowly dipped himself onto the combined beds, sat back on his haunches and surveyed the women from a closer distance and a more arousing angle. Astrid's eyes drifted up to his, but she kept at her task of loving Olivia's mound, lips and bud. Peter cocked his head and watched for a few minutes. He had played audience to Olivia's womanhood so many times, but looking at her in her most vulnerable state never grew old for him. Her long, gorgeous legs were spread far to allow Astrid's tongue and fingers easy access, and Peter enjoyed watching her various muscles quiver. This was a view that he never got to see, and it was something else. She would slightly jerk a leg muscle, or parts of her perfect ass would respond to Astrid's stimulation. He took notice of the way the lips surrounding her entrance were puffed up and just how deliciously wet-pink they were from the sweet torture they had been receiving.

Peter then switched to closing his eyes. The sounds of their heavy breathing, the slick, soft slurps of their tongues, the soft moans of pleasure, and the mixed aromatic bouquet of the two highly-aroused women were an intoxicating assault on his other senses. He opened his eyes, and Astrid saw that they had changed. He had a look that bordered more along the line of bliss than lust; his stormy eyes reverted back to a clearer greenish-blue. He softly moved up close, between Olivia's parted legs. As he held himself, Astrid gave him a small nod, understanding what he was going to do, and she stopped lapping at Olivia's core, which caused her female lover to protest.

Peter slowly entered his wife, and took his time. His breaths were normal, and he maintained a focused sense of control. Olivia continued on her end with Astrid, as she tried to ignore Peter's teasing penetration. He'd slide a little into her, then pull out, add a little more, and then back it away; finally, he just slipped his entire gift into her softly and stayed still. He readjusted his position on his knees, and caressed his wife along her thighs and hips, still not moving inside her. He closed his eyes and was perfectly content to feel her tunnel react and squeeze, and constrict, and twitch as he played with the sensitive surroundings; Astrid was intrigued to watch from this angle, up close and personal.

Olivia, on the other hand, was quietly going nuts with a desire… a need for him… to do something… to _fuck_ her. And there he was, the rotten devil, not doing a damned thing. Her face full of pussy and ass, she could only imagine the evil little smirk on his. She bore down on him and squeezed hard, hoping to spur him to action. But the only reaction she received was a lusty, "Oh, baby, keep doing that." Frustrated, Olivia concentrated fully on Astrid, and the younger woman's verbal appreciation only made Olivia more impatient for Peter to get moving.

Just when she had reached her breaking point, Peter's hips started to move. It wasn't a locomotive, but it was better than having his ship in harbor and no motion on the ocean. Peter had a different type of conducting in mind, so he took a medium pace, with measured, long strokes, almost sliding completely out of her on every pass. Olivia then became aware that he was stoking her fire from embers. Between Astrid's prior tonguing and Peter playing maestro, her horn was going to blow. The love-of-her-life was setting up a nice crescendo to end this evening's performance. They all had their march, they had their overtures; now was time for the finale. Her husband could still surprise her.

Peter leaned back, propped a few pillows under her, and put his hands behind his head while he continued to play his part. Olivia grew ever the more soaked, resulting in a consistent, sloppy-wet sound every time Peter pushed in and out of her furnace-of-a-body. This additional tone to their lovemaking symphony almost set Peter off into a rush, but he maintained his steady beat with great effort. His feral mind screamed inside; told him to pound into her furiously like a snare drum roll, but that was not part of his score. No, the constant half note pace like a bass drum would do nicely, loud and reverberating in effect, driving the course of it all. He needed no acceleration for this to hit home for his captive audience.

Her tongue strokes became centered solely on Astrid's very exposed bud as she tried to muffle her mews of pleasure. Then a sense of intense warmth washed all over her lower body and abdomen, the waves built tall and intense just before everything lit on fire, exploded and crashed around her. Olivia's roaring climax was a rare one indeed; deep, hard, and quaking, the result of good, prolonged stimulation of—well—everything. And it took _everything_ out of her; every muscle limp, and her mind set adrift.

It was enough for Peter, too. He did not once increase his pace, but his hands moved down to the side of her hips to grip her, and he happily growled as he erupted, not in violent spurts, but in a heavy, steady flow, like lava. He pulled out mid-climax, finishing by hand, allowing his cum to seep over Olivia. Astrid licked it all up as she moaned her approval, and Olivia fisted at the sheets. Then, by her own accord, Astrid took him into her mouth to greedily siphon the remainder of his tribute. Peter's eyes fluttered in the back of his head at this surprise coda, and when she was through with him, he fell over to his side, happily spent for the evening.

_Applause. Bow. Sorry, no encore. There ain't no more to give, Captain._

* * *

Astrid excused herself, put on a robe, and understandably sought a drink and a chance to clean up.

_Peter's fluid had tasted like a bitter coffee chew with milk, gone sour_, she laughed to herself, as she really got the aftertaste of him. C_onsidering he consumed as many of the vile things as he could lay his paws on— total caffeine addict—it's not surprising._

Olivia snuggled up next to her mate, grinning big, as he wistfully ran his fingers through her hair.

"You. Are a. Pervey. Sex god."

Peter nuzzled her with great affection, his eyes heavy and his lips holding a joyful, small smile. A low reply, softly whispered in her ear: "Only because I get to worship my inspirational goddess."

Astrid brought them each some tea, which they gratefully accepted.

"This has been wonderful." Astrid finally broke into conversation. "But what happens to us… if we do win; if we are able to defeat the Observers?"

Peter put his cup down and scratched his head. "I see no reason why things would have to change unless you decided to try to find a new relationship."

"Wouldn't that hurt you guys? I mean… certainly we'll all become attached to each other, it would be naïve to think otherwise."

"I'm no expert with open relationships, of course, and only have what sociological and psychological studies say. There's an entire range of reactions as lovers come into and out of the equation, but the basic unit here is me and Olivia sharing us with you."

Astrid understood this. "Here is a thought that you both may not be comfortable with, but I wanted to get it out there. Let's say that life goes on, and maybe you guys want to try to have a family again. Not to replace Etta of course, but to move on, like she'd want you to do."

"Before the invasion, I had been doing a lot of thinking. I was getting up there in age, and not certain if I'd form a lasting relationship with either a man or woman. My Dad was hoping so much that I'd find a nice guy, because… well, you know parents. They want grandkids… I was looking at donors…"

"Then the Purge came, and well… you know the rest."

"Anyway…" she took a deep breath and held Olivia's hand.

"How would you feel about the possibility of…Peter…being that needed donor if we get through this?"

Peter swallowed hard and about coughed on his tea. Olivia's eyebrows arched high and she turned her head to the side to look at him. Both were silent for a few moments as Astrid prepared to apologize for the very awkward, unorthodox request. _You are asking your prior boss and friend if she'd let you borrow her husband to make a baby… It's not like a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar…_ After all, they just entered an open arrangement, and now she dropped this on them. But tough times called for boldness.

Olivia broke the silence. "I did say that if you somehow accidentally got pregnant, then there is no better father for your child... Peter?"

Relieved that his wife had first say, he replied, "The legal issues would be… interesting. But I would be willing, if Olivia was."

"Imagine Walter doting over a baby from you two…" Olivia giggled. "And never getting the poor child's name right. Plus, his or her intellect would be staggering. Language skills from the mother and mathematical capabilities from the father… baby Einstein."

It was nice to discuss kids. His kids. Her kids. Their kids. _Any kids_. The thought gave Olivia hope.

Peter shook his head and released a faux indignant sigh.

"So basically, we need to defeat the Observers so that we may help to repopulate the world with our intellectually-superior offspring? Lots of sex. Best motivation ever."

The three of them realized that they did need to get some sleep, and it wouldn't be long before Walter would be up and about with the boy. Peter spread the blankets out over the three of them and they all snuggled together to gain some additional warmth. After all of their overheating physical activity, their cooled bodies reminded them that the air in the room was sort of nippy, but it sure was nice to pile up together, another simple pleasure that they could share together.

It was a time that none of them had asked for, but love would conquer whatever the unfeeling Observers threw at them. This oppressive situation had changed their perceptions and the "normal" rules about relationships. They had made the bonds between them stronger. Love was their resistance in that time of no hope, no feeling, and no free thought.

* * *

_**Two weeks later**_

As Walter took Michael's hand and started for the wormhole portal, Astrid's thoughts raced. The fact that the plan was to reset time had changed everything. No matter what happened, she knew there would be no more sitting back at the lab and drinking strawberry milkshakes while listening to Violet Sedan Chair, U2, or Bowie again. She would no longer be called everything but Astrid, and would greatly miss the affectionate offender, who she had given her love to, the night before. There would be no arrangement to have a child fathered by Peter, because life would go on a different path. But who knew if this would work? If Olivia and Peter would have their daughter back like nothing at happened at all?

She was sad for Peter, but Astrid smiled through the tears as Walter slipped away. This book was closed, but would never be the same. Pages would be erased, and a new ending written in its place. The world was so surreal… At least they had won a chance to start over. A chance to live happily ever after?

* * *

_**2015**_

Peter had watched the tape his father had left him to explain his disappearance, over and over again, mulling over ways in his genius mind on how to stop this madness. Nothing was impossible. Walter had made the machine after all, and Peter had found over the past few years that he was just as capable of bending the laws of physics. As he sat, feeling utterly hopeless, he could not help but feel the strangest sense of déjà vu. He HAD seen this before. He knew it. Flashes would come to his mind that did not make sense.

_An adult woman. Etta? _

_Death. _

_Rage. _

_Becoming like something called an Observer. _

_Olivia holding him in the rain._

_An unusual boy. Michael?_

_His dad embracing him and telling him that he was his favorite thing._

It was enough to drive him mad, but Olivia had some of the same visions, too.

Astrid came bursting through the lab doors; having made a mad dash when Peter had frantically called her asking about Walter, and then he realized what his father had done. Peter hugged her and at that moment, he saw and felt things that just didn't happen. Did they? Astrid looked up at him with the same look of recognition on her face. At this point Peter knew that love had transcended past and future. Whatever happened, happened. Peter was sure that this was this Michael's doing. He had made sure that they would not forget the future.

The white tulip was Walter's reminder to Peter to just let go. To accept things as they were at that time.

* * *

**The Future, 2167**

Times like these changed everything.

Walter Bishop had not slept much since getting to New York. His task with Michael complete, Walter set off to find some manner in which to live the rest of his days. He had contemplated living the life of a monk, but was convinced that society had much to learn from him—he had altered everything.

_My, my; how this city has changed. I don't belong here in these times…_

But not everything had changed. Massive Dynamic was still a big player in the world.

He was welcomed by them as partner to William Bell and confidant of Nina Sharp. But he was also welcomed for far more than those associations… Peter had been a chief engineer and CEO for one…

Walter wondered about one lingering question: What happened to William Bell? Bell, it seems was involved in some temporal experiments and just disappeared one day. This fact made Walter very nervous.

Walter delighted in looking at the information data cubes for his family, which were located in the Massive Dynamic archives. He discovered that Olivia gave birth to male twins in 2016—Charlie and Sam. Another daughter—Marilynn—would be welcomed by his son and daughter-in-law later in their lives. All of them made a mark on the world in many different fields. He cried reading about the many grandchildren who had also lived and loved.

He paused when he came across a file titled:

**Farnsworth, Walter B.**

Walter fully expected this to be the child of his dear friend and assistant, Astrid. But what was this doing here among the records of his family?

His eyes grew wide when he discovered the reason: Walter Farnsworth's father was listed as …

**Bishop, Peter R.**

Did Peter have an affair with Astrid? Not that Walter could condemn his son, as he had his own share of extra-marital dalliances, and he also had the memory of what had transpired in the lab shortly before the plan was set into motion. Plus, Astrid had come to him the night before the reset and sweetly shared his bed. But those were different times and circumstances.

Walter sighed in relief when he found a legal document which outlined the unusual terms of a donor/paternal rights agreement between Peter and Astrid. Walter found that Astrid had married a linguistics professor named Claire. Both were considered part of Olivia and Peter's family. Astrid advanced far in her career, second to only Olivia—Fringe Division Commander—in rank. With Olivia's blessing, Peter had naturally fathered the child as a favor for their friends. Not wanting to go the expensive, impersonal, "turkey baster" route, they actually had a strict, agreed-upon schedule for when, what Walter could only crudely term as Peter and Astrid's "mating," was to take place, a week timed on Astrid's ovulation cycle. It only took one cycle.

They also wanted to be part of the boy's life. Among the many pictures of Olivia and Peter's children, young Walter could also be found. Birthdays, holidays, school events; seeing these miracles—these precious happy children, with their beaming parents—made the elder Bishop proud.

It turned out that Walter was the only child of Peter's who had walked in his father's footsteps and worked for his company. When Peter retired, Walter Bishop Farnsworth took over Massive Dynamic and was a pioneer in the fields of telepathy and universal language translation. He revolutionized communications. The elder Bishop then realized that he had seen Farnsworth's portrait, beside Peter's, in the lobby. He couldn't believe that he didn't make the connection before, as the man inherited Peter's eye shape, his unfortunate, large, squat nose, and also shared his "noble brow."

Walter smiled as he read Etta's file. She had become one of the most renowned forensic scientists in the world, and owned her own consultancy. She had a business partner, which made Walter curious enough to seek more information. The man's name was Dr. Trevor Lee. As he dug, Walter discovered pictures taken at the Bridge, which had been reopened in 2020. Trevor was the son of the Olivia Dunham from the other side and Agent Lee. The old man was glad that life had turned out good for them, too. So, technically-genetically, Etta and Trevor were half-siblings, or cousins… or something related; both sharing the status of having otherworldly fathers.

_As if the family tree didn't look odd enough_.

* * *

Walter was introduced to a young science officer from the aptly named spaceship, Enterprise. He hugged her hard, much to her surprise, when he was told that she was his descendant through Etta and Simon Foster.

_Simon graduated from Stanford with a law degree, joined the FBI, became involved with Fringe Division, and met Etta at an agency party. Although he was considerably older, they fell for one other. Then he found out who her parents were. Falling in love with the eldest child of Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop was no big deal, really… she was just his overall BOSS and he managed the richest corporation in the world… He would later nervously introduce himself to them. Unknown to him, they knew of him in the future-that-would-not-be, and as such, Peter adored the man right off the bat. Although he was glad for it, Simon wondered what stroke of luck had led to Etta's father's favor. Etta had warned her older lover that her dad was the protect-his-baby-girl-with-a-shotgun type. If Simon only knew the sense of gratitude that her father felt for him…_

Etta and Simon eventually married and had children of their own. Funny how things work out. Simon's unsung, heroic sacrifice in that 2036, to take Peter's place in amber, paid off in spades.

* * *

Walter had made the right choice. Although he had sacrificed being with his son physically, it was almost not like a punishment at all. He got to see the legacy of his family, and how lives were affected by the reset. By all rights, this young woman should not have been alive. Her line should have been erased. In one time, her ancestors -Etta and Simon—had both experienced gruesome deaths. But not this time. There she was. Despite all of the odds that could have changed everything, there she was.

Walter crossed the line for love and stole time to be with Peter. Peter met and fell in love with Olivia, who had once been a young girl that his father had experimented on. Olivia was able to bring Peter back from the nether, and also to heal herself from death, because of the experiments Walter had done. A child of two worlds, whose father from a different universe had been brought back to existence, and whose mother technically died while unknowingly carrying her, was born. That child died at the hands of a cold murderer, but Walter's choice to cross the line again, gave her another shot. And now this young woman before him lives.

Astrid had been loved by his son in a time that never came to pass, but ended up having a child with him in another time, like it was inevitable. A son who should have not lived at all was able to father five children, and many more people lived because of it.

Times like these exist because they would not just accept times like those.

Love is never inconsequential. September/Donald came to understand this, but could not get his superiors to see it. Walter had taken September's notebook with him. A record of a man who technically never existed, but who changed everything. A man lost to time.

Walter had a new purpose. People would remember Donald. He would have therefore existed.

Walter was set free and absolved.

_In times like these, we learn to live again._

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

I hope that this was _scandalous_ enough for you. *evil grin* I don't write fiction often, but chances are if you're in the _Fringe_ Twitter community, you know who I am. Sometimes the naughty me just needs to put those thoughts to paper.

But, I like porn-with-a-purpose. So, this story started out purely as an excuse for some rare, hardcore Astrid/Peter/Olivia smut, and ended up being about family and legacies and stuff… Funny how that happens. I like having a dirty mind, but then it goes all waxing philosophical on me. xD

One cannot accuse me of not being well-rounded. I love sci-fi LAZORS *pew pew*, discussing the finer philosophical points in life, a good book, some awesome music, and I love imagining a good, dirty sex scene. Everyone has his or her vice. I prefer mine to drugs.

_Fringe _is kinda like that, an excellent combination of awesome things. But it could have definitely used some more naked, and I don't mean naked Walter, lol. In another universe, it's airing on HBO. Then again, that would be a different show altogether, so maybe it's good that the scandalous remains in fan fiction, whatever form it may take, eh?

Now that the show is over, and my other time-consuming fannish activities have waned, I may write more fiction. A long-time reader of _X-Files_ fan fiction, I've also been a follower of the _Fringe_ fiction community for many years, occasionally tossing in my comparatively pathetic offerings. I know who all the key players are. It feels like invading a secret cult at times. *wink*

I'm my biggest critic, and often feel that I don't think like a lot of people do, so I'm very cautious about what I put out to the world. In my professional life, I write a ton of works on every nonfiction topic imaginable, and it doesn't faze me. But whenever I submit a fictional story or update, my nerves go all to hell. So, dear reader, if you have made it this far, please consider a bit of feedback or a review, whether public or private PM. The best part of the _Fringe_ fandom has always been the mutual encouragement that we give one another in our creative pursuits. I'd like to write fiction for many years to come, so talk to me. I don't bite—much.


	5. By Request

_By request, this story has been extended with an addendum about how Walter Bishop Farnsworth came into existence. Thanks for the reviews and faves – recent ones encouraged me to continue. I know these stories aren't exactly a canon path, and can be quite explicit, but I like to imagine the impossibilities. Plus, I like to explore some odd concepts regarding the question of "what is family?" Also, for the reviewer who asked; yes, Walter and Astrid did what you think. It was a time of emotion and uncertainty, so even Walter got some love. But I'm not writing about that, unless there's some serious bribing going on. ;)_

_**Boston, The former lab of Walter Bishop, 2018**_

It began with overhearing a conversation. Peter had a penchant for eavesdropping. After all, he once made his life in information; in collecting it, spreading it, manipulating it, and making it up. Old habits—especially survival mechanisms - die hard, if ever. He pretended to be fully engrossed in the soldering job that he was performing as he replicated a piece of technology once obtained from dealing with the Fringe team Over There.

Astrid was pacing back and forth. She had taken a break from deciphering some code from a terrorist cell that they were investigating, possibly linked back to William Bell, and shapeshifter technology. She was speaking to her partner, Claire. He heard terms like "donor," "catalog," and laughing with the words "turkey baster" thrown in.

"No, he won't do. While he has an acceptable educational history, he just doesn't have everything else we'd like…. No, I am not being difficult… I just don't see why this has to be hurried."

Astrid continued her frazzled path from one end of the lab to the other. She noticed Peter looking at her, and he quickly put his head back down, both eyes back on…

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he touched some hot solder onto his finger, and jumped up quickly, as he flailed his hand around. His team mate had seen this happen maybe a couple of dozen times by now, so his pained outburst was of no concern to her.

"Hold on a moment. Yes, that's him you hear. No, I haven't talked with him about it." Astrid smiled back at her friend and colleague for a brief second, but then walked off to her office, and shut the door behind her.

Peter ran some water from the lab's safety sink over his finger and bit his teeth down slightly into his lower lip due to the slight, but sharp pain.

"What a wuss," he laughed to himself. After many years of working with small and intricate electronics, he had developed callouses on key places of his fingers, battle scars from his favorite vocation. Olivia even enjoyed some of them… for other, more _leisurely,_ purposes. He knew the reason for the distraction that led to his oblivious slip, as he glanced over into the window of Astrid's office. She was finished with her call, but didn't look very happy at all, as she was sitting at her desk, slumped over in her chair. She had her elbows braced on the desk and her hands cradled her forehead. The poor woman looked absolutely defeated. Peter had not seen her looking this miserable since Walter had disappeared.

_When Astrid's sad, you know something is terribly wrong._

He had intended to apply some proper burn appointment to his singed finger, but his curiosity and desire to make his friend feel better led him to simply quickly dry his hands.

_What's a little pain, anyway? I've had worse. Like that kidney infection which made it feel like I was giving birth to a xenomorph._

He walked to the office door, and knocked on the wood below the glass pane which read, "Special Agent Astrid Farnsworth;" an addition shortly after Bell's plan for a humanless utopia was foiled. Astrid had received a promotion, and Walter felt it was time she had her name on the office door because of all of her momentous contributions, mainly protecting him, and being shot in the line of duty. Astrid was in many ways, a daughter to Peter's dad.

"Hey, Astrid? Are you all right?"

Silence.

He knocked again. "If you want me to go away, just let me know, OK?"

The door opened and she motioned her friend inside.

Peter sat down in the guest chair opposite her desk, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

"Are you OK?"

The dejected woman in front of him shook her head to affirm that she wasn't.

"No. But it's a personal manner, and I really don't know who else to talk to."

Peter stood back up and he held her misty gaze in his own eyes, sensing a deep hurt. _But from what?_

The next thing he knew, she had embraced him, her head buried into his chest. She and her domestic partner had become great friends with Peter and Olivia over the past few years, and to be honest, it was like being an extended family.

Peter placed his arms around her, and then pulled her face up with each of his hands on the sides of her face. He bent down and softly whispered, "Hey, now. Hey… I'm your friend. You can tell me, if you want. I won't tell anyone, if that's needed."

"I haven't really told you guys, but… Claire and I have been exploring options for having a child."

"OK… I remember you both talking about the possibility."

"We've been looking into using a sperm donor for artificially inseminating me. But the thing is… none of these men really stand out for me. To be honest, the impersonal nature of the entire procedure bothers me. I mean… my job has dealt with these mechanical, scientific processes for years. Just for once, I'd like something not so lab-oriented.

"Mm, well there's not much that can be done when you are involved with the woman you love."

"Maybe she's right, and I am being too picky… No, that's not it, and I am embarrassed to say…"

"Astrid… you spent how many years working with and caring for my father? Embarrassment should be a non-issue for you by now, and honey, you _know_ I've heard and seen it all."

"This is different, Peter."

"How so?"

"Because… It involves you."

Peter cocked his head with curiosity and folder his arms across his chest, "Excuse me?"

His mind raced._ How could talk of sperm donors and insemination possibly involve me? I've done lots of things for cash, but whacking off into a cup and spawning an unknown litter across the country was not one of them, in any timeline._

"I think you need to sit down." Astrid pulled up another guest chair. Peter obliged and looked at her intently for some sort of rational explanation.

"Peter, when I think about all of the qualities I want in the father for my child—intelligence, good humor, kindness, curiosity, bravery, decent looking—all I can think of is…. How _you_ fit them all. Plus, I've seen your children, and while yes, half of who they are is uniquely Olivia, I can clearly identify _you_ in them. _You_ are basically the perfect father I had in mind. And that is not a possibility."

There was a sense of relief that washed over his tense muscles, and he relaxed in the chair, though he still processed exactly what Astrid had just revealed to him.

"Astrid, dear… While, I'm flattered, did you also include prone to self-destructive acts, depression, and being a stubborn and massive-pain-in-the-ass to that list?" Peter laughed. "And you do know who my father is… well, technically for all intents and purposes on a genetic level… You know how scared Olivia and I were for each of our children… My very makeup is fundamentally different from anything in this world. I am ever-so-slightly out of sync. Not enough to matter on an everyday, practical level, but the thoughts were there about the risks to a child formed from a union between parents from two different realities. Plus, I almost died as a child, and I'll never truly understand the origin of the illness, as Walter must have hidden those records and research, but I was always under the assumption that it was genetic. Add Olivia's Cortexiphan ordeal… It was a miracle that the kids turned out normal. Well, as normal as expected, coming from the two of us."

"I'm sorry, Peter. I really shouldn't have told you this. You are a married man with a family, and Olivia… I don't want her to hate me."

"I didn't say no, did I? Let me talk to Olivia about the situation. You may be surprised. If anything, I may be the one who ends up sleeping on the couch with only the dog to keep me company for a couple of months."

**Bishop residence **

"I see the point, Peter. "Why not have the child originate from someone special to her, rather than some stranger? And Hell… none of the men offered by the donor banks can beat your IQ. To be honest, if I had never met you, and if he had lived, I may have asked Charlie to do the same thing for me. I never saw myself having a husband."

"The sticky issue, hun, if you pardon the pun, is procedure. After seeing clones and test tube baby experiments galore, we were discussing accomplishing the goal, the old fashioned way. Seminal collection and injection is a little too rote for my taste.

Olivia tilted her head and gave her husband an intense questioning gaze.

"You are asking to have sex with her?" his wife tittered.

Peter placed his hands up in front of himself in a cautionary gesture.

"Only if you are OK with it. If not, I'll insist on the porn and cup-plus-syringe route."

Olivia considered it for a few minutes. _The implications of such action…_

"I don't think I'd care, Peter, but that's… wow… Claire is OK with this?"

"Yes, they both want a child born out of human contact and affection. She knows that I don't love Astrid. Well, not at least in the way she does, or the way that I love you."

They discussed the issue long into the night, and took turns researching similar situations and legal procedures.

**Dinner at the Bishops**

Olivia and Peter invited Astrid and Claire over for dinner one evening, and Nina took the kids so that the two couples could have an uninterrupted conversation. Nina had counseled them all on the matter and offered the services of one of her personal lawyers.

Peter had decided to let his wife take the lead with the majority of the details. He was hers to do with as she wished, in his opinion. Whatever she ultimately decided, was law in their relationship. This tenet had served them well. Peter was perfectly find letting her where the pants, as long as he got to hold them up.

"Thanks for coming over, the both of you. We've had our lawyer draw up the contract and we wanted to discuss it again before it was all signed and filed tomorrow."

"We insist on certain parental rights. I'm not going to allow Peter to do this unless he has some claims to any child that may result; mainly, the right to see it and be involved in its life…

"Second, the child must be aware that Peter is his or her father. Our children will be siblings in every way."

"We are to be legally absolved of any financial support, but we can offer it if we so choose, and you can be sure we will."

"The sessions will take place at a neutral place – a hotel room; not our homes."

"We'll initially agree to 3 ovulation cycles or three-month's time. Peter will provide his… services… for 3 days each cycle, once every 12 hours."

"This is somewhat morbid, but… given the nature of our work and past experience… If Astrid dies, Claire will be given custody. If you both somehow die while the child is a minor, Peter and I will be given full custody."

**Several weeks later…**

So, I take it that the mating call has arrived?" Olivia grinned, a happy baby on her hip, another secured in a high chair, and Etta off watching cartoons and practicing her drawing skills. Peter turned somewhat red, as he put his cell phone back on the counter and returned to his task of washing pots and pans.

"Maybe, I should bring the camera and make a video for Discovery," he offered back with a slight grin in an attempt to keep the topic light. "You can be the entire film crew."

"Don't you mean _Hustler_?" Olivia laughed back, as she enjoyed the banter with her mate.

_Phew, so she is still OK with this._

"Even if we actually would go through with such a crazy and kind of creepy idea, with our luck, our curious daughter will find it, and then there will be some serious explaining to do."

"As if we won't have enough of that to do if Astrid does become pregnant, and the child calls you Daddy, which I fully expect," Olivia said with a more serious tone as she placed baby Charlie into the playpen along with his brother, Sam.

"Well, let's hope it works and this next couple of months is all I need to um… attend to."

"Considering we had Etta so easily, and then you outdid yourself with twins, I'd say the chances are good."

Peter replied with mock indigence, "Excuse me, but those twins were the result of _your _two eggs, thank you very much."

"Well, they would have gone on their merry little way if someone didn't have sonar sperm, Olivia giggled. "Though that took care of the 3 we wanted."

"Livia, are you sure you'll be fine here with the boys and Etta while I am off on my um… goodwill mission?"

"Just get 'er done, as they say, and be back home shortly after sunrise."

**Four Season's Hotel**

Astrid flipped through some television stations, while sitting on a fairly posh bed. They had agreed that any potential conception would not occur in a seedy motel, and Peter, having amassed quite a small fortune from patents for devices based from his father's work, had made the offer to pay for a nice room. The expectant woman was dressed in a black negligee - a plush robe enveloped her nearly nude body.

_Easy access._

He had called earlier to let her know he had to make a stop first. She was nervous and the muscles of her back would occasional ripple with anticipation when she ran dozens of thoughts quickly through her agile mind.

_What will this be like?_

_Do we just "do it" and get it over with?_

_What if he's good and I like it?_

_Am I really going to fuck my good, married friend like he is a stud horse?_

She laughed at the last one, even though the thought of _using him_ in that manner was distasteful to her.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was a knock at the hotel door. Cautiously, she looked through the eye piece to see what looked like a pizza delivery guy standing outside, but it was Peter.

"Is this your idea of some kind of kinky role-play, Mr. Bishop?" she giggled as she opened the door for him.

Peter had dressed simply in a pair of loose, belted, black Wrangler jeans, and a gray three-button Henley, an open navy zip-up hoodie, and a pair black leather engineer boots. He wore an aged black Violet Sedan Chair ball cap, which he preferred only for leisurely days off. Otherwise, he tried to be somewhat cleaned up for work. This was a sign of how comfortable he was with Astrid. No formality. Just two friends. About to get it on…

Peter placed the pizza on the table, and he embraced Astrid in a quick hug, laughing. "No. No. Don't worry about the naughty pizza boy getting a different kind of tip. I just felt… that… well, ha, ha, I should at least buy you dinner."

"Oh, Peter. That's so sweet. You didn't have to."

"Well, it's not Four Season's room service, but I try…. And…"

The smiling man pulled a bottle of wine out of his kit bag, and even some plastic wine glasses.

"High-style for us, my lady. Let's enjoy tonight. Sound good?"

Astrid nodded, and they both dug into the supreme Damiano's pizza. Their discussions ranged from Claire's work to the tribe of Bishop children.

Peter looked over at mostly ignored television set, and about choked on a piece of pizza that was he was chewing. Astrid had last clicked on the Discovery Channel, and there were a group of bonobo monkeys basically having an orgy in the forest. Astrid looked over to see what Peter was laughing about, and turned beet red. The remote was quickly snatched up and the television switched off.

Peter arched his eyebrow, and quipped in a playful tone, "We could always put on some mood music."

"I think we'll be fine without a soundtrack. I really don't want to have one of those, 'sweetie you were conceived to a Justin Bieber song' stories."

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Not that. Instead, we'd ruin jazz for the poor kid for life."

They both giggled at the thought, and then there was a moment of silence, as the two of them sensed there had been enough friendly stalling.

Peter shoved his lingering pizza crust off to the side and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"You know, just because this is a legal arrangement doesn't mean it has to be all clinical; that we can't have fun and enjoy it," he said as he looked intently at the remaining wine in his glass and swirled it around, purposely avoiding eye contact.

Astrid had been feigning interest in the current pizza slice too long for her taste. Her hunger was different, and started to awaken as she spoke to the man sitting with her; as they enjoyed their time together. She didn't want to break the spell, and was glad that he spoke up first. She stood up and extended her hand to him. Peter looked up to her-one of the rare times that would ever happen given their height differences—and softly took her tiny hand in his, then he stood up to tower above her. His eyes bored soulfully into hers, and they spoke silent volumes.

_He looks scared, almost trembling._

It was Astrid who took the lead.

Chink! The heavy, worn leather of his trusty belt creaked after Astrid had undone his buckle. Peter stared at her in a moment of disbelief. He was briefly paralyzed as she yanked his zipper open and then shoved his jeans down over his perfectly curved ass so that they fell down to his knees, leaving him nearly exposed in his black Jockeys. He was so electrified by the boldness that the hair on his legs was standing; his skin pebbled with evidence of excitement.

_Hell, this is making me hot. Here I am, normally a tiger, and she's turned me into a mewling kitten. Not expected from Astrid. I like it._

His initially soft cock reacted in kind, a surging pulse starting the process of bringing it to life, as she went straight for business and removed her robe. Peter looked on, fascinated and entranced by her lace-covered body. He shook off his skittishness, and pulled her to him with a small growl, his hands cupping one of her breasts as their long denied mouths sought each other out. They lost themselves for a few minutes in heavy kisses and mutual body exploration with solid, massaging motions. Sometime during their foreplay, his shirt ended up… somewhere, and his boxers were kicked into a corner.

_Why do I feel like this isn't so out of place? Like this is meant to happen? Huh, déjà vu. What do ya know?_

She stroked his manhood gently at a leisurely and seductive pace at first, noting just how much he gained in both length and girth; definitely well above average.

"Damn, Peter. How do you hide all of that in there?" Astrid remarked as she took in view what had been hidden from her all of these years.

"Do you think you can handle it? And I don't mean that to brag about the size of my junk. I don't… Don't want to hurt you."

"Astrid raised an eyebrow, "Sure… Peter… I may prefer women, but I've had my fair share of guys, too, and one thing is fairly universal with you: You guys take every opportunity to prove you have a big dick, especially if it's actually true. Besides, I kinda had the feeling you were blessed," she winked.

She took in his entire nude form, making notes of his delicious body. Peter was amazingly fit for a guy who would be 40 this year. He did have an ever-so-slight excess of stomach, but it actually made him all the more real and cuddly.

_If Peter knew I was having these sex dreams about him the past few years—complete with a threesome with Olivia… that seemed, oddly real…_

"I look forward to it. You should see some of the toys that Claire and I have."

Peter's flashed a toothy grin when he thought about that. "Oh, I can imagine," the amused soon-to-be-lover chuckled. "But, how to put this… I can't compete with The Dominator." Peter's hands moved to the front of his bare chest, and he spread them apart with about a good 18-inch space between them, as if to emphasize a point.

"Sure you can. _You_ can _cum_, and that's all I really need, right?"

Peter's cheerful flirting was deflated with that statement, as it landed him square back into reality and his purpose for being here, in a hotel room with Astrid, in the first place. His sole mission was to be a sperm donor. Quite literally - to be a tool. Any other thoughts about potential side benefits of this specific need for his ejaculate should be locked away, but his heated and excited body and the overwhelming primal urges in his brain overrode these rational thoughts. Genius or not, he was still a man, and he saw a beautiful, naked woman whom he cared for— smelled her desire for his touch – heard her voice laced with want, even if the context of her words were not. And, her touch contradicted the intent of her words.

_Oops, I upset him. Dealing with the male ego is a bit rusty for me._

_God, she's playing with my balls, like they are candy to be unwrapped._

He exhaled slowly, and groaned, giving in to the pleasure, as Astrid enjoyed the weight of his hefty sack, and imagined the shear amount of fluid that he would most likely provide. It had been ages since she had been with a man. Her stomach knotted into a heated lump, at this thought. The idea of him cumming inside her for the sole purpose of creating a new life, was pretty overwhelming, and it made her incredibly horny.

_This feels so right. I've made the choice to have a child conceived out of affection, and fathered by a man I know and care for. No regrets…_

Even after being with Olivia for so long, Peter still immensely enjoyed sex with her. They had never reached a dreaded plateau that so many other married couples suffered that led to boredom. It could be hot, and sometimes kinky, but he mostly got off on their love for one another. Their binding emotional connection led to physical bliss. However, this act with Astrid was unexplored territory, and his naughty and opportunistic cock seemed to sense this carnal attraction, causing the blood that poured into it to beat a savage rhythm that pounded in his ears. In any other situation, she was off limits, forbidden fruit. Now, made available, it was just too much to resist.

Her mocha skin was gorgeous and responsive to his touches, and he was quite enjoying her reactions to his teasing strokes across her very alive and engorged clit. Her sex was overflowing with wet heat, and it was driving all of his senses mad with overwhelming stimulation. He felt every urge to toss her onto the bed on her knees and to wildly fuck her into oblivion; true animal copulation in the basest sense of the phrase. It scared him because for the longest time, his one and only was Olivia, and he pretty much expected to die with that always being the case.

Instead, he pulled himself back to being human, and scooped her up into his arms, hers wrapping loosely around his neck. He placed her gently on the bed and hovered above her, mindful of the differences in their mass. Peter continued to love her from mouth, to thighs, and inside her thighs, as she verbally encouraged him.

"Peter. I want you badly. Did you ever think you'd hear that?"

He continued to look her in the eyes as he positioned himself between her legs, he ran his fingers all around her soaked pussy, and slowly worked some fingers in and out, making sure she was ready. He then placed the palms of his hand on her thighs and spread her legs as far as he could to give himself as unrestricted access as possible. She quivered beneath his touch, the roles now reversed from those that they had undertaken earlier. She had led him to this point, let him know that she felt safe with him, placed complete trust in him; he sensed this. It made him quite deliberate and mindful of his actions. He may have wanted to fuck her like an animal, but he'd be damned if he hurt her in the process.

Astrid felt the tip of him at her entrance as held his cock, and prepared to start the process that she hoped would pay off. She wasn't young either, and didn't even know how her fertility would be affected by this fact. The knowledge that she was ovulating was encouraging, however. She was fairly certain that the conditions were right, this very night, to accomplish their goal. Her thoughts were shifted as she felt him enter her tight passage. She didn't admit that she really was daunted by the size of him, because unlike a toy, she could not control his speed and movement. But her slight anxiousness was unfounded.

She had initially felt the need to close her eyes and bite her lip, expecting some unpleasant pressure, and possibly fleeting pain, as he filled her, stretching her to the limits of her body. Peter was of course certainly experienced enough with sex that he knew better than to ram his thick rod into a woman all at once, and to expect consequences from such a sadistic move. Her eyes remained open as she held his gaze. But he lost himself in the exquisite bliss of feeling her tight walls resist him, and he broke eye contact. He slipped partially into her and pulled back before sliding a bit in, which made Astrid squirm and whimper beneath him. He smiled at her desire for him, and after a few half pumps, completely buried his root in the garden valley.

His vision was blurred with intensity from so many levels of sensation.

_There is quite a difference between a woman who has given birth to three children, and a woman who has never had kids._

His rhythm was pleasing, measured and rough at the same time. He was no longer afraid of hurting her, and increased his tempo to a pounding pace. Her skin became flushed with heat and slickened by sweat from her own body and some which dripped from Peter. Astrid's womb made its desire know as she felt the familiar signs of climax approaching. She ached for him to flood her with his seething seed, to the point at which it would flow out of her. Her own fluid coated him as well, and added a soft, suctioning smack each time he pushed into up into her all of the way, his balls provided the percussive element.

"Come on, Peter. So close. You ARE going to get me pregnant tonight," she encouraged him, and even though he really didn't need it, it flipped an instinctual switch on in him. Even when he and Olivia were actually trying for a second child, she never uttered such a thing to him. It was devilishly naughty in his mind.

Peter panted hard as his machinery was sent into overdrive, and Astrid reacted in kind. She unyieldingly bucked back up into him. His eyes closed, and noises alternated between grunts, curses, and pleasured outbursts. With purpose, he forcefully latched onto the sides of her hips and pulled her toward his center mass at an upward angle and as close as their bodies would fit. The rutting man held her next to him, fully using his position to grind into her clit and g-spot simultaneously, while she writhed and squirmed beneath him, and he came undone hard, his sought-after seed propelled and scattered in filling spurts into a hopeful garden. As he vigorously pumped his last few thrusts, she quivered and moaned loudly; her sex had completely soaked him with her own offering. He loved feeling her break all around him. _Breaking the dike_, he thought and mentally slapped himself for such a derogatory pun, although Astrid may have found it funny given the source and context.

Afterwards he cupped her face in his left hand; his shaking right arm supported his weight, as he stared into her eyes. His member had completely delivered its precious offering—siphoned from deep within the heated, sprung coils of his body. Peter's head was spinning as his brain came down from the high of his bliss, and his body recovered from exertion. He leaned over to place the bulk of his weight on his side, pulling along the smaller woman who had been beneath him, and they both adjusted to the new position.

With a hard exhale, Peter nuzzled Astrid and buried his nose slightly into the pillow next to her head, his chest heaving as his lungs screamed for oxygen and his heart pounded at the rate of a metronome on its highest setting. A soft whisper escaped his lips and into Astrid's ear, the breath quick and labored. "I don't want to crush you, but don't want to pull out just yet. The chances for conception are better if I remain inside you for a while." As it was, he could feel his voluminous seed slightly oozing between them, trickling down their thighs. It became small, sticky drops that mingled with the soaked spot on the bed that was mainly her doing. He intended to keep things dammed up for as long as possible in order to allow nature to take its course, if the time was right, as predicted by the test she had taken to determine if she was fertile.

Soft, trembling fingers made patterns in the damp curls on the back of his head, and sent goose bumps up and down his spine. Then a finger slowly reached the outside of his exposed ear, tracing a tickling pattern. Peter looked up from the pillow and could not help but smile as Astrid quietly and affectionately enjoyed the afterglow of this session.

"I'm perfectly content if it doesn't take this first time out," she purred.

Peter's eyebrows arched and he opened his eyes a little wider.

Astrid watched his Adam's apple work as he swallowed hard and then cleared his throat before offering a reply.

"Heh, I guess that's our little secret then, because I must say, that was fun. What our respective beloved partners don't know… they don't need to know. What happens here, stays here, and will never happen anywhere else."

Peter slipped his wilted and completely coated cock out of her, and rolled over on his back, blinking in the dark at the unseen ceiling. The last vestige of his semen coated the head of his now limp plow, and his depleted seed sack was coated with Astrid's juices, matting down the coarse hair covering it. It was this very realization that drove home the point that he and his friend had crossed the line into an intimate level, and there was no going back. Even if this week was a one-time exception to the commonly accepted societal rules of marital fidelity, things had changed between them, forever. Especially if he did manage to impregnate her this week. Being a father to a woman's child made the relationship alteration certain.

He hated that word: impregnate. There'd be a repeat performance in 12 hours, but it wasn't going to start as awkward as this time went.

_What complicated feelings to have. I suppose it's just evolutionary biology in some ways, but there are several levels of affection at play here. Hell, none of us have exactly ever been the types to stick with the rules. We've broken the rules of time and physics for pity's sake. This agreement in itself is highly unorthodox and frowned upon, as we are all conditioned to modern tradition. Doesn't matter._

They slept in each other's arms for a few hours before Peter awakened to shower and head back home to his beloved wife and their trio of children. Before he left, he smiled at Astrid's sleeping form and hoped that he could give her a child of her own. _She'd make an excellent mother._

**Back at the Bishop House**

Peter slipped into the bedroom and lay down next to his sleeping wife. God, I love her. He felt conflicted because his soul completely belonged to Olivia. But he enjoyed sharing himself with Astrid… She awakened and smiled.

"Hey."

Peter nuzzled her and snuggled up with her.

"How… did it go?"

"Good."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least I know you are being truthful."

"I love you, Olivia. She won't ever hear me tell her that I love her."

"I know. Don't feel guilt. We decided this together."

**Nine months later**

Claire called Peter in the wee hours of the night to let him know that she was driving Astrid to the hospital because she was in labor. By this time, Peter was a pro at the "baby is coming game," and was calm, unlike his panicky days as a first time father with Etta. He about drove Olivia mad due to his hovering and fretting near the end of her pregnancy.

He rubbed his eyes and grinned at the thought that soon a new life would be brought into the world, and he had a part. Olivia sat up and hugged him. "It's time?" He nodded his head in the affirmative, and affectionately kissed her mouth.

"I'll let you know how everything goes."

They had received a call from Astrid about 7.5 months prior informing them that she was pregnant. That first week was really all it took.

**Hospital**

"I'm here to see Astrid Farnsworth." Peter explained to the head nurse on the labor and delivery floor of the hospital.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Peter Bishop. I'm… I am the father of her baby."

"OK, yes. I see you listed here Mr. Bishop. Take a seat, and I'll have someone come to escort you to her room."

Peter turned around and prepared to take a seat, but was met by an older African American gentleman.

"You're the father of my daughter's baby?"

"Mr. Farnsworth?"

The older man nodded and waited for a reply to his question.

"Um, yes. Yes, I am."

Mr. Farnsworth laughed and held out his hand. Peter took it and shook.

"She's spoken highly of you over the years. You're married?"

_Oh no, here comes awkward._

_"_Yes. I've been married to my wife for six years."

"And you have three children?"

"Yes, sir. One daughter and twin boys."

Astrid's father nodded his head slowly.

"I see… "

He sensed an uneasiness and embarrassment coming from the younger man.

"Don't worry, Peter. I'm not here to judge you. My girl explained the agreement and everything. If anything, I want to thank you. I love my daughter, and she's taught me a thing or two about acceptance of things that are different. If you're going to be a part of the baby's life, well, that makes me incredibly happy. I have grown to love Claire, but a kid should have a father.

"I agree. I miss mine every day, sir."

When the nurse came to take him to see his baby's birth, he looked back at the old man and it made him emotional to see tears in the man's eyes. He had seen tears in another man's eyes on the day his grandchild was born… It took all he soon-to-be-father could muster to not break down thinking about what Walter had missed and would miss.

**Waiting Room**

Peter called Olivia who had stayed at their home with their children. Etta was all kinds of curious as she had heard enough to put together that someone was having a brother or sister, and it wasn't mommy, but daddy was there.

"She had a boy, Liv! He's a doll! She named him... Walter. Walter Bishop Farnsworth. Oh God, I'm crying…. Tell Etta-bear that she has a new brother. Yes, I know she wanted a sister, blame me there. You all can visit and see him tomorrow. I'll be home shortly. I love you."

When Peter arrived home that night he was greeted by an overly-excited 6-year-old, their beagle, and Olivia. The boys were long asleep for the night. His home. His family. They were so happy; he never thought any of it would ever be possible.

Later that night, Peter retreated to his study. Olivia understood, as he hadn't had any alone time for quite a while. Although a weary and emotionally exhausted man, he retrieved a metal archival case and withdrew a photo album. It was opened, and several photos of newborn Walter, one of Peter holding him, and another of the baby with his mother, were carefully placed alongside those of Etta, Charlie and Sam. This project was being compiled for a very specific purpose. The grandfather of these children deserved to see their lives as much as possible, as only because of his sacrifice, did they exist. He would have his chance in the future, long after his son and grandchildren were dead.

Peter smiled and wondered what Walter would make of the youngest boy's parentage. He figured the old man would be overjoyed for such a genetic combination between his son and assistant, not only because of the practicality that their union would produce highly intelligent offspring, but because he dearly loved Astrid.

Peter lived the rest of his days believing this, and luckily, his theory was proven correct by the far-off -future smiles of a tearful and overjoyed old man, who had the privilege of seeing pictures of his FIVE grandchildren—Peter and Olivia had a final, surprise daughter; the sister Etta had always wanted—and from meeting some of his many decedents from his son, and Olivia and Astrid.


End file.
